Whumptober 2019- Stitches
by Frankie McStein
Summary: There was a worrying amount of blood trickling put of his leg. She needed to wrap it, slow the flow of blood. It came as a surprise to them both when she passed out.


They had focused on Magnum almost exclusively, content to view her as nothing more than an inconvenience. She had tried to tell them that she was working the case with him, that she knew as much as he did, in a desperate attempt to take their attention off him. But Magnum, the bloody idiotic, noble, overprotective nitwit, had shouted over her that she was just a friend he had been giving a lift to.

"Your bad luck, love," the leader had sneered at her, before dragging her into this damned room and shoving her to the floor. All she had done since was listen as Magnum yelled in pain as the questions were repeated over and over.

Technically that wasn't true. She had tried to unlock the door. She had tried to find another way out of the room. She had tried to catch their attention by yelling and screaming. She had tried to take the gun away from the man who had come charging in to shut her up. Then gone for the knife the man he'd called for backup had been waving. But nothing had worked, and so, to her mind, she had done nothing.

For the last few minutes there had been a terrible silence. No cries of pain, no grunts of exertion, no yelled questions, and no quiet refusals to answer. She tried to work out what it meant. Magnum could have just blacked out, but, before now, she had heard gasps and coughs that had put her in mind of smelling salts, and she doubted that was the case.

But if he hadn't passed out, then what on earth was going on? She tried to move closer to the door and heard footsteps coming closer and closer. They stopped by the door, and she moved back away as quickly as she could. The fight earlier had gone quite badly for her, and she was in no rush to get knocked down again.

When the door opened and she saw Magnum being half-carried into the room, she gasped at the sight of him. The men smirked at her reaction before dropping Magnum to the floor. A groan was pulled out of him by the impact, and she moved to his side, reaching for the hand that was twitching, fingers looking for something to hold.

The door swung closed, lock clicking loudly into place, but she didn't pay any attention.

"Magnum?" The fear in her voice was a mistake, she knew, but she couldn't seem to hide it. She held her breath as his head rolled to the side, sighing in relief as his eyes opened and found hers.

"Hey," he breathed, wincing as he spoke. "You okay?" He had such a serious look on his face that the incredulous laughter died on her lips.

"I'm fine. I'm worried about you, though." There were marks scattered across his body, ugly bruises and smears of blood where there should have been expanses of smooth, tan skin. She let her free hand rest on his cheek, wincing herself at the swelling she could feel across the bone.

Magnum offered her an exhausted-looking smile. "I'll be all right. Nothing I haven't lived though before."

She hated it. The words, the casual way he said them, the pain and fear and helplessness they invoked. But he clearly meant it to be reassuring somehow. So she returned the smile with one of her own and started trying to check him over for serious injuries, things that she needed to somehow address. There was a deep cut on his leg, a worrying amount of blood trickling from it. She tugged off her shirt, leaving her in a vest top, and broke the hem with her teeth, tearing off a strip before folding the rest. Magnum clenched his teeth against a cry of pain as she tied the cloth tightly in place.

She ran her hands over his chest and stomach, looking for the slight bend that would indicate broken ribs, or tender, rigid patches that might mean internal bleeding. Three broken ribs on one side, maybe a cracked one on the other. Nothing that pointed to a serious internal injury thankfully. She knew for a fact that there was nothing she could do about anything much worse than the cut on his calf.

"It's okay," she soothed, wiping the sweat that was beading on his face from the pain. "I'm all done now." She watched anxiously as he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Thanks," he muttered. "I feel better." He grinned a little at her huff of laughter.

It came as a surprise to them both when she passed out.

...

Magnum forced his body to listen to him and sit up. None of his muscles wanted to cooperate that much, but he overruled their objections. Higgins had slumped sideways without so much as a sigh, and his panic was more than loud enough for him to ignore his own hissed grunt of pain.

"Higgins? Can you hear me? Hey, hey c'mon." He kept talking as his eyes landed on the bloody mess on her leg. He glanced at his own leg, neatly wrapped with her shirt. The bleeding seemed to be slowing already, even though he knew he would end up needing stitches. He had a horrible feeling her injury was worse.

"Juliet? I need to try to wrap your leg, okay?" He tugged off his shirt, already ruined by his own blood, and quickly copied her actions; tear off a strip, fold the rest. He didn't try to move her pants leg, worried he would somehow cause more damage.

_'Put the folded cloth over the injury. Tie it in place.'_ His thoughts had a vaguely British accent that he'd never noticed before, and he glanced up, wondering if Higgins had woken up. But no, her eyes were still closed. He was just channeling his inner Higgins.

He wanted to check for other injuries, to make sure the knife wound, and he was sure that it was a knife that had caused it, was the only issue. But she was stirring, mumbling something, and he bent close to listen.

"...need to take...care…Magnum…" Her voice trailed off, lost in a gasp of pain, but he'd heard enough to make his stomach twist. She was worried about taking care of him. She had a wound in her leg that was going to need surgery to close it, all he needed was a few stitches, and she was worried about him.

He shook his head and looked down at his makeshift bandage. A small patch of blood was already soaking through, and he couldn't quite believe she had managed to stay awake long enough to check him over.

"Higgy?" He was rewarded with a raised eyebrow. "Can you open your eyes? Please?" He watched as she frowned at the request.

"My… my eyes?"

"They're closed, Higgy. I need you to open them." He stared at her hand as it moved a little, stirring by her side. It wasn't until it had covered half the distance between them that he realized she was reaching out for him. He wrapped his fingers around hers, squeezing lightly, and was instantly confused when she tried to pull away.

"Your…" Her face went so lax for a second that he thought she had passed out again. "Your leg," she managed, and he gawked at her.

"You need to open your eyes to check my leg."

Her brow furrowed again, and she had to hold her breath, like she didn't have the energy to breathe and move at the same time, but she managed to open her eyes halfway. Magnum moved, shifting his leg into her line of sight so she didn't try to move her head. She sighed as she looked at the lumpy bandage.

"Is it all right?" Her voice was still breathy, but she was awake and coherent. He'd take it as a win.

"We're gonna have matching scars," and he forced a grin onto his face even though she couldn't see it, knowing she would hear it in his voice.

Sure enough, a small grin tugged at her mouth in response. "Finally, something in common." Her smile grew a little wider, and he let his grow too, feeling relief flowing through him at the recognizable sarcasm in her tone and the increasing strength in her voice.

"Course, we need to get out of here first so we can our matching stitches."

"I'm sure the White Knight can improvise some stitches." Laughter in her tone now, and Magnum couldn't hold back his own chuckle, even as he saw her eyes flutter slightly.

"You think the White Knight can improvise a needle, thread, antiseptic, and anesthetic?"

"Improvise is his middle name."

They were still giggling when the door flew open a minute later to reveal Katsumoto, gun drawn, and two officers behind him. He blinked at them both, clearly having been expecting the worst.

"What's so funny?" His only answer was another set of giggles from the pair in front of him, and Katsumoto just shook his head. Clearly, they had a matching sense of humor. He kept on shaking his head as he radioed for an ambulance. They may be aggravating, but it still wouldn't do to let them die on his watch.


End file.
